Chapter 51: The Talisman Sect and the Spirit Method Sect

Lin Jue lowered his head, looking at the fox beside him; it raised its head to meet his gaze, its young eyes clear and bright, as if understanding nothing at all, and his inner turmoil lessened because of it.

“You must never become a demon or evil spirit to harm others…”

With this thoughtful warning, seeing its gaze still innocent and uncomprehending, Lin Jue smiled and kept walking.

Soon they reached the forest at the village entrance.

“This is it.”

Lin Jue pointed to the pit ahead, scorched by fire.

Zhang Da must have set fire here, somehow triggering a land collapse, and with his curses and insults, finally enraged the evil entity—prompting its premature emergence and turning its hatred toward Zhang Da.

Whether this is good or bad depends on whether the Daoists from Fuxiu Peak and the divine forces summoned from Qiyun Mountain could have detected it had it not emerged early.

At that moment, a villager carried a table over.

Two Daoists from Qiyun Mountain unrolled their travel bundles; one retrieved the items, the other arranged them, and soon a ritual altar with incense and offerings stood set up in the forest.

The young fox, still small, grew tired and, glancing at Lin Jue, sat down right where it stood.

Lin Jue, however, watched the altar ahead with solemn curiosity.

One man lit incense and candles, another took up a brush to write green-charm scriptures, then solemnly stamped the ritual seal. Next, he stepped in the Yu gait, muttering incantations, calling upon the names of deities, and burned the petition.

“Disciple Qingxuan of Qiyun Mountain’s Xuantian Pavilion, disciple of Master Xu Jing, humbly petition the Divine Lord.

“Last night…

“This place is filled with yin evil… death qi…

“I humbly beg Divine Lord Yi Li to assign a Thunder General to send divine lightning to cleanse this place of yin and death qi!

“I beg Divine Lord Yi Li…”

Master Qingxuan first stated his name and lineage, then explained the situation, requesting the Divine Lord to assign a Thunder General, and continued calling out his plea without pause—much like a mortal official requesting troops.

But this was clearly no easy matter.

The process showed no trace of mystical aura or wonder.

According to Lin Jue’s understanding, this was indeed the case—

It was a ritual, requiring no magical power.

Whether a Daoist already initiated with talismans and registered in heaven, a devout believer who had worshipped the deity for years, or even someone with an unusually strong spirit, as long as they performed this ritual, lit incense, and prayed, the deity would hear their voice. Some with profound virtue or special divine favor could even skip parts of the ritual in emergencies, and the deity would still hear them.

Many temple caretakers communicated with deities this way, and they likely possessed no magical power at all and understood nothing of cultivation.

As for whether ordinary people could perform these rites…

His master had warned Lin Jue—

The ritual to summon deities must never be attempted lightly, especially by cultivators who already possess magical power!

Lin Jue now understood the Talisman Sect even better.

Compared to the Spirit Method Sect, the Talisman Sect resembles the difference between government officials and martial artists of the rivers and lakes. Martial artists hone their skills to wield power themselves; officials take another path—they handle matters by summoning authority from the court. Thus, officials need not be strong or gifted in martial arts, need not spend decades training; they need only the talent to serve and follow the bureaucratic path, and when needed, they can summon court martial forces.

Just as in today’s world: the court rules, and as long as it endures, officials will always outnumber martial artists, the official path will always be easier than martial training, and their status will always be more noble. The official path is the widely recognized great way; martial artists, though free, endure hardship and gradually become a narrow path, emerging only in chaotic times.

But the official path has its flaws—

Even if you are a high-ranking court official, a single decree can summon heavy troops, and ordinary bandits will avoid you on the road. But if you happen to encounter a stubborn fool, and you suddenly face danger or an unforeseen crisis, you may not have time to summon reinforcements. Martial artists, by contrast, carry all their power within themselves and can act instantly.

Thus, many Talisman Sect Daoists, besides worshipping deities, studying Daoist scriptures, and cultivating virtue, also train in martial arts and swordplay to protect themselves.

The talismans of the Talisman Sect are not much different in meaning from military tokens.

Of course, this is merely a metaphor—the Talisman Sect and Spirit Method Sect are not entirely like officials and martial artists; though one is now stronger and the other weaker, the imbalance is not extreme.

Qiyun Mountain’s Xuantian Pavilion is naturally larger, more famous, and higher in status than Fuxiu Peak’s Fuxiu Pavilion, but for Lin Jue, Fuxiu Pavilion suits him better.

Now, Master Qingxuan was “calling in troops.”

Before descending the mountain, Master Qingxuan had brought talismans and petitioned the deity, but the situation here exceeded expectations—not as originally reported—and the previously summoned divine power was insufficient to handle the death qi. Yet the Talisman Sect has its rules; the Nine Heavens have their laws; summoning deities follows strict rituals. The deity will not permit arbitrary borrowing of divine power, so he must submit a new petition and request fresh divine aid.

This deity’s name, it seemed, was Divine Lord Yi Li.

“I beg Divine Lord…”

Master Qingxuan continued calling.

The sun gradually rose, and Lin Jue even heard a few distant roosters crowing from Xiaochuan Village behind him.

Perhaps Divine Lord Yi Li had not heard; perhaps too many voices called his name and he was overwhelmed; perhaps he heard but was verifying Master Qingxuan’s words; or perhaps his dispatch of Thunder Generals and divine lightning required several steps—whatever the reason, Master Qingxuan received no response.

Master Qingxuan remained patient.

The fox, however, had already yawned.

Lin Jue silently pondered.

Suddenly, Master Qingxuan’s gaze sharpened, and he pointed his wooden sword toward the deep pit in the distant forest.

Had the deity arrived?

As Lin Jue wondered, a vast, pure, righteous energy appeared above his head—he instinctively looked up, but saw only layers of clouds, nothing else.

“Crack!”

A muffled sound startled him.

He looked down and saw the deep pit in the forest struck by lightning, now billowing thick white smoke.

A stench of decay spread, then dispersed by a cool breeze.

“Crack!”

This time he saw clearly—a sudden bolt of lightning.

“Crack!”

Another followed.

Three in succession.

Each thunderclap carried a yang and martial spiritual resonance, clearly perceptible; though not exceptionally powerful, it was far from the unimaginable, unstoppable might Lin Jue had imagined from a deity, and far beyond the cultivation of his senior brothers in the pavilion.

The death qi in the pit vanished instantly; the last two thunderclaps seemed like safeguards.

“Huh…”

Master Qingxuan finally withdrew his wooden sword, exhaled in relief, then bowed respectfully toward the altar and informed the Thunder General that another location remained.

They moved to another site and repeated the process.

“Crack!”

“Crack!”

“Crack!”

Three identical thunderclaps, evenly spaced, as if strictly following written orders.

Lin Jue looked down at his feet, wondering if the fox—long suspected by his senior brothers to be a fox demon’s descendant—had been frightened, but saw it huddled beside him, each thunderclap making it flinch and shrink its ears and neck.

Yet it only trembled physically, never ran away; sensing his gaze, it lifted its head to meet his eyes.

It seemed only startled, not terrified.

That made sense—

This little creature was barely two months old; it knew nothing of deities and had done no wrong, so why should it fear them?

When Lin Jue looked up again, Master Qingxuan was already respectfully seeing off Divine Lord Yi Li and the Thunder Generals.

“Huh…”

He exhaled deeply again.

“Tear down the altar!”

Master Qingxuan told the younger Daoist, then let him busy himself while turning to face Lin Jue and the other two, bowing deeply.

The three were momentarily startled, then quickly returned the bow.

Looking into Master Qingxuan’s eyes, Lin Jue inexplicably felt: “Regardless of Talisman Sect or Spirit Method Sect, any sect that rid the people of evil is a good one.”

Perhaps the reason the Talisman Sect flourished across the land and earned reverence was precisely because of these Daoists—who needed no innate talent for spirit arts, no arduous cultivation of spells, yet could still subdue demons and exorcise evil.

Over the years, countless common folk owed them blessings.

As he straightened, footsteps sounded behind him.

He turned to see the people of Xiaochuan Village approaching.

Leading them was the village head—Zhang Da’s father—followed by many villagers, most in tattered clothes, yellow-faced and emaciated.

After some exchange, they learned the evil spirit had been destroyed and the death qi cleared; they were overjoyed. But the joy faded quickly, replaced by hardship.

“How shall we repay the Master for exorcising the demon?”

The village head looked first at Lin Jue and the other two, having heard his son was saved by Lin Jue, and that last night’s events were witnessed most clearly by these three.

“This humble Daoist asks only that the village’s wine fill this flask—that shall be my personal reward!” The third senior brother chuckled, shaking his empty flask. “As for the pavilion’s reward, my master always looks down on me; he assigned this matter to my younger brother.”

The village head then turned to Lin Jue.

All the villagers looked over.

Various expressions, complex gazes, met Lin Jue’s eyes.

…

Two days later.

Fuxiu Pavilion, inner courtyard.

The eldest senior brother sat carelessly on the steps, weaving a bamboo doll, bamboo strips and slats scattered everywhere; the old Daoist sat beside him, fanning himself with a reed fan.

“Master, I’m back,” Lin Jue said, bowing in the courtyard.

“The lingering soul removed?”

“Removed.”

“The yin qi cleansed?”

It’s burned.

How much did you receive as payment?

…

Lin Jue presented five taels of silver: “This is the reward given by the village head, extra for saving his son’s life from an evil spirit.”

What evil spirit?

It was a malevolent entity born from deathly qi.

“Huh? I wondered why the spirit medium recited a poem: ‘Life is like a game of go, each move new—who could foresee this bloom?’ Clearly, something unexpected occurred. Yet from the poem alone, though unexpected, I see no sign of danger or misfortune.” The old Daoist, clad in thin, loose robes, paused his fan and looked up at him. “What about the other rewards?”

Lin Jue reached behind him and pulled out a sack of wheat.

His robe, turned into a pouch, held a full scoop.

“Besides the village head’s family, everyone else is poor—hit by natural disaster and demonic chaos. They simply couldn’t afford silver as payment. But they’d just harvested wheat, not much, and each family gave me a handful.”

Lin Jue lowered his gaze and spoke plainly.

“Hmph…”

The old Daoist took the wheat, weighed it in his hand, smiled, but declined the silver. “Tell me about your descent to slay the demon. Where did this evil spirit come from?”

“Yes.”

Lin Jue recounted the events truthfully.